Personal Tune
by Charli-Slater
Summary: This is slightly influence by Hannibal.


"Danny!" Jill ran to the back of the house, her eyes frantically searching the yard for the third time. "Danny, where are you?"  
Danny's mother burst through the back door onto the deck and yelled, "Did you find him?"  
"No, Debbie." Panic and fear wrestled in Jill's body as she ran to the front of the house. Several of the neighbors were walking through the subdivision and calling out to the six-year-old boy.  
Jill looked at Debbie who had made her way to the front steps. She had a phone in one hand and the other hand covered her face. Jill could hear her across the yard as she sobbed to Danny's father on the other end. "I don't know, Rick! Jill says they were playing out back and she walked inside to get some juice. When she came back out . . ."  
Debbie dropped the phone and now held her face in both hands. Jill watched as two ladies sat on either side of her and tried to offer comfort while she wailed into the knees of her khakis. They had been searching for three hours and found no trace of Danny. Jill stood silent beside the police cruiser that was parked along the curb.  
As she answered the same questions multiple times she wondered how this had happened. Debbie was her best friend, and she had been in the delivery room the day that Danny was born. She wondered how Debbie would ever be able to look at her again, if she could ever look at herself again, and then she wondered if they would ever see Danny again. He was the fourth child in the last eleven months to come up missing and the others had never been found.  
The last thought sent reality exploding through her mind like a well orchestrated fireworks display. The sobs broke through her tightly pressed lips while tears began falling on the front of her blouse. She stared across the lawn at Debbie whose body was still shaking from her own sobbing, and for a moment their eyes met. In sync, they covered their mouths and cried harder.

"It was Abbey Finch who was the first one, then it was little Ben Helm. After that it was Gary Lance's boy, Randy. I believe they were all about Danny's age." Bill Pickett, Debbie and Rick's closest neighbor, stared at the ground as he spoke.  
Jill sat quietly on the curb as she listened to one of the policeman take statements from the neighbors. It had been eight hours since Danny had disappeared and the sun was beginning to drop. Some were still searching around neighborhood yards while others were scouring a small patch of trees at the end of the cul-de-sac's.  
Jill had watched while Debbie walked through the yards of neighbors once more. She faced the policeman and asked, "Are you finished with me? I'd like to keep searching."  
He stared down at Jill and said, "Yes, ma'am. Let me know if you remember anything else."  
"Thank you." She stood from the curb and began walking through the back yards with the rest of the neighbors. Rick was now home and searching with Bill Pickett. Jack and Hannah Combs were searching around the edge of the forest patch and Jill overheard them speaking as she stood at the far end.  
"Christ, Jack. Four kids in less than a year."  
"Yeah," Jack whispered. "It's hard to believe. It's even harder to imagine in a neighborhood like this one."  
"I know. Everyone has lived here at least ten years or more." Hannah lowered her voice and asked, "What do you think is happening, Jack?"  
He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket. After lighting it and taking a long drag Jack said, "You really want to know what I think, Hannah?"  
Hannah moved in closer, watching his smoke cloud drift on the breeze in the dim glow of the street light. "Yes," she said. "What do you think is happening to these kids?"  
Jack leaned in and said, "It's a funny thing all this started when construction at the end of the block took up."  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean," Jack whispered in a gruff tone, "I think it's those damned construction Mexicans!"  
"Oh for God's sake, Jack." Hannah shook her head and added, "You're a crazy old coot. Come on and let's keep searching."  
Jill silently agreed with Hannah and moved in the opposite direction. On the right side of the cul-de-sac was the home of Minnie Jenkins. The ninety-six-year-old lady was sitting in the wooden rocker on her front deck as Jill approached. "Are you alright, Minnie?"   
"What's all the commotion, child?" Minnie asked. Her expression was one of confusion, but that didn't seem strange. Jill had seen the look on Minnie's face several times in the last couple of years.  
A fresh flow of tears ran down Jill's cheeks when she opened her mouth to speak. Finally she managed to choke out, "Danny's missing."  
"Oh, my." Minnie's eyes scanned over the yard as she said, "Mayhap the little fellow's just off playing."   
Through her tears, Jill managed to choke out, "No, Minnie. He's gone."  
A crashing sound came from the house and both women turned. Minnie's eyes narrowed as she said, "Oh, I bet that Chester has knocked over another table."  
"I'll come and check for you, Minnie." Jill wiped her sleeves over her eyes. She was thankful for a chance to remove herself from the realities of the outer world.  
"That isn't necessary, dear." Minnie followed as Jill moved to the door. "Well, perhaps I can make you a warm drink before you head out searching."  
"Thank you, Minnie." Jill opened the door and waited for Minnie to walk through. The house was a several-decades-in-the-making knick knack shrine still in progress. Every flat surface was covered with tiny glass kittens or porcelain angels. Every inch of the walls held velvet tapestries and painted clowns. Nothing was visibly toppled as far as she could tell, and Jill tried not to knock anything over herself as she passed through the narrow walkway leading to the kitchen. Chester wound himself across Jill's ankles as she pulled out one of the green-cushioned metal chairs and sat at the kitchen table.  
"I know you've made a mess somewhere, you naughty kitty." While Minnie filled a tea cup beneath the tap she said, "Did I ever tell you about my old cat, Hansel?"  
When Minnie began one of her long spiels, Jill sat back and sipped her tea. She still felt like crying, but her eyes were completely drained. Leaving Danny alone in the back yard, if only for a moment, was the single most irresponsible thing Jill had ever done, and to pay with guilt for the rest of her life hardly seemed a suitable punishment.  
After the unheard cat story was finished, Minnie began to sing her usual soft tune below her breath. A loud clamor came from behind the door that led to the basement stairs causing Jill to drop her empty glass. It shattered on the floor, and as Jill picked up the pieces she said, "What was that noise?"  
Minnie smiled and answered, "Nothing, I'm sure," and then went back to singing her private melody.   
Jill stood up holding the broken glass, but dropped it and fell to the floor herself. Her head was spinning as she tried to get off the floor, and her body refused her efforts to try and gain balance. The noises in the room became amplified, and over the deep humming of the refrigerator Jill could hear the words of Minnie's song that would flow perfectly with the theme to the Alfred Hitchcock show. "I took them down. I locked them tight. I slice their meat in the dark of the night."  
Minnie opened the pantry door and wheeled out a dolly, then laid it on the floor next to Jill. She tried to fight the fading of her vision, but Jill found it impossible. Her stomach churned as she heard the last of Minnie's song before she fell unconscious. "I know where they are. I wrapped them up tight. A flavor acquired, it's love at first bite ."

"Did I ever tell you about my father?" Minnie stared down at Jill with a grin. "He was a good man, raised me all by himself after the tuberculosis took my mother."  
Jill tried to speak, but her mouth was covered with duct tape. She tried to sit up, but a strap was looped across her chest, and her hands were restrained as well. Her eyes fluttered, bringing Minnie's face into focus. She watched the old woman fill a hypodermic needle as she continued speaking.   
"It was slim pickings back in those days. Most times, folks didn't know where their next meal was coming from - or if there was a next meal." Beside the two-foot-tall table on which Jill was strapped, Minnie sat the needle on a dresser. Her eyes clouded and her brow crumpled while she spoke of her youth. "But, not us, missy. My daddy made sure we always had something." The corners of her mouth curled upward as she said, "Why, in a time where folks feared starvation, we ate like royalty."  
Jill held her breath and was stilled by her disbelief of what was happening. She finally moved her head from side to side hoping to find a way to free herself when a figure in the corner caught her attention. Pain broke out across the nape of her neck as she twisted into an awkward position trying to gain a better view.  
Eyes still clouded, Minnie continued. "He used to bring the most wretched women home, a new one every time, and I never could understand why. They'd have their faces painted up, be half dressed, and smell like cheap liquor and cigarettes. My father was so handsome, I just couldn't imagine what he'd want with the likes of those tramps."  
Jill squinted her eyes to make out the silhouette in the corner. Whatever Minnie had slipped into her tea was wearing off and her vision was clearing, yet it was still a bit fuzzy and made the distance visually hard to cover. As her eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the solitary light, Jill's heart leaped with joyful recognition. The tiny blue tennis shoes shifting in the corner belonged to Danny. Yet, as quickly as the joyful feeling came, it passed. His body was perfectly still, and except for Minnie's voice, the room was dead silent. The last thought pumped her adrenaline, and Jill began to labor against her restraints.  
Minnie picked up the needle from the dresser when Jill began struggling and continued to speak. "Well, one night it became clear exactly what my father wanted with those trollops.  
"I was in my bed and the full moon was out. I always had the hardest time sleeping when the moon was full, so I was still awake and I heard a clamor from the kitchen. I walked in, and there was daddy covered in blood and sawing away." Minnie wrapped a long strip of rubber around Jill's arm.  
"Well, I have to say, I was frightened to death when daddy saw me standing there. He walks over, real slow like and still holding his knife. He stared at me for what seemed to be forever before he says, 'Well, don't just stand there gaping, girl. Come over here and give me a hand.'  
"We sliced and wrapped all night long." Minnie smiled and said, "My father taught me a lot about survival. After times got a little better, we had beef, poultry, pork and such. Yet, I never lost the taste for what my daddy used to cook up back then.  
"After he died, I guess he was ninety-eight, I couldn't stand the craving. But, I discovered something better than the tawdry trollops. I discovered young meat is much more palatable." She looked at Jill and frowned. "In your thirties, your no spring chicken. Yet, I can't have you spreading my secret recipes around, now can I? Oh well, like my daddy always said, 'waste not, want not.'"   
Minnie pushed the needle into Jill's vein. Jill tried to scream, but the tape kept her fear muffled. While she drifted off, the last thing Jill heard was the soft crooning of Minnie's private tune.


End file.
